


Evermore

by AuraSweet13



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Their relationship is very important to me, i love these two, so much, spoilers for Doomworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuraSweet13/pseuds/AuraSweet13
Summary: Amaya has a nightmare that deeply unsettles her, and finds herself in the kitchen, where she crosses paths with Mick Rory, who is also wrestling with his demons. Vixenwave two-shot.





	1. There may be something there

_Amaya gasped sharply. A chill, like none she had ever felt before, ran through her as the ice from the cold gun hit her chest and started to spread. She didn't have her totem; she couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she couldn't do **anything** except stand there in utter terror while her body froze. Her eyes went from one team member to the next, but she couldn't make out any individual expression-every face was blurred._

_Before she knew it, she was completely frozen, but she was entirely aware of everything that was going on around her._

_"I am sorry about your friend, Mick." She heard Snart's voice as he approached her. "I know you loved her...to pieces." Then he tapped on the ice, and everything went black._

Amaya jolted awake, clasping her hand tightly over her mouth to stop herself from screaming and waking up everyone else on the ship. What the _hell_ was that?

She'd never died before, it didn't make sense...

Until it did.

She remembered how she hadn't seen a past self for herself when the others had come back to 1916, thought about Sara's words, and her stomach rolled violently, though mercifully she didn't throw up.

What if what she was seeing, was that death? Her death?

Quickly, she scrambled from the bed and headed out of her room, towards the kitchen. "Gideon," She whispered, so as not to wake the rest of the team. "please fix me something that'll help me sleep."

"Of course, Miss Jiwe." Thankfully, Gideon seemed to get that silence was paramount, because the AI was whispering, too. Which had to be a first.

But when she got to the kitchen, she found she wasn't the only one awake.

Mick was sitting in his usual spot at the table, snacking on a large bag of chips. He hadn't seemed to notice her, so she quietly walked over to where the fabricator was. As she'd asked Gideon to do on the way there, the AI had whipped up a small bowl of cherries and pistachios for her. Leaning against the counter, she picked up the bowl and quietly started to eat. For a while, they stayed like this, doing their own things in silence.

And then, to her surprise, he broke it. "You can't sleep either, girly?" She smiled gently, remembering the first time that he'd called her that. It had been derisive, an insult. Now, it was tinged with familiarity and, dare she say affection?

But it didn't last long as she remembered why she was awake in the first place. "Nope." She said, trying to remain casual, well as casual as someone who'd witnessed the death of one of her past-future?-selves could be, popping a cherry and a pistachio into her mouth at the same time.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Now this was _really_ surprising. Mick Rory didn't talk about feelings-be they his own feelings, or the feelings of other people. This made her meet his eyes, and what she saw there only further shocked her. He looked concerned.

Amaya shrugged. "Bad dream." Again, she tried to be as casual as possible, even though it clearly hadn't worked the first time if Mick Rory of all people had seen through the ruse. She looked anywhere but at him, suddenly aware that she was in her sleepwear, which currently consisted of a black t-shirt and a pair of grey track pants, with her hair braided down her back.

"Yeah, me too." He offered. "You know, you can come sit, if you want. I'm not gonna bite ya."

A giggle escaped her, and he seemed to brighten a little. "I didn't think you would for even a second, meathead." She told him as she walked over and sat down next to him with her bowl, picking up another cherry and pistachio and popping them both into her mouth. She liked the differing tastes between them. "Do you want to talk about your bad dream?" Amaya asked softly, looking at him.

He looked right back at her. "Not really."

Amaya shrugged. "Fair enough." She wasn't about to press him for information if that wasn't something he was comfortable with. She swore she could still feel the chill of the ice encasing her, and she shivered involuntarily, hoping Mick didn't notice.

But, unfortunately, he did, because before she could even open her mouth to reassure him that she was fine, he was standing up, removing his jacket and placing it over her body. It was warm on her bare arms, and it smelled like him (not that she knew how he smelled, why would she know that?), and her hands abandoned the bowl to bring the jacket more tightly around her. "Jeez, girly, I know we're on a spaceship, but I didn't think it was _that_ cold in here."

Amaya couldn't even find it in her to smile this time, though. "It's not the ship." She whispered helplessly, hating herself for it. She was the wielder of the Anansi totem, for crying out loud. She'd faced worse than a bad dream.

But she'd never _died_ before.

"Is it possible to have nightmares about an event that didn't even technically happen to you?" She continued to whisper. Amaya expected Mick to crack a joke, one of his infamous one-liners.

But he didn't. He just remained silent. When she looked up at him again, she found him already looking at her, looking just as troubled by this as she felt. "Yeah, I...I think so." He murmured, surprisingly solemn. The entire time he was speaking, his eyes didn't leave hers. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" He asked again.

Amaya continued to clutch his jacket around her, wishing she could burrow into it, absorb all of its warmth. "I wouldn't even know where to start, Mick." She was still whispering.

"The beginning is usually the best place." Mick supplied, causing a soft laugh to burst from her. His lips twitched slightly in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Amaya stared down at the contents of her bowl, not wanting him to see her face as she talked about the nightmare. "I...it starts with a blast of ice hitting me in the chest." She struggled to get the words out, voice shaking slightly. "From Snart's cold gun." She pushed the bowl away from herself, clasping her hands together on the table. "I'm stunned at first, I don't think I've really registered what's happened...and then the cold starts to spread, working out like a spider web, slowly encasing every part of my body in freezing cold ice." As she spoke, she could almost feel everything she was describing. She was back in that room, feeling it happen all over again.

Two large, incredibly warm hands engulfed her smaller ones, jolting her back to the present. "Amaya, stay with me." He urged, his tone softer than she'd ever heard it. "You're not there, you're here. In the kitchen of the Waverider. With me."

Amaya nodding, fixing her gaze on his face. "I'm...I'm terrified. I don't have my totem, I can't defend myself, and I'm so cold I can't even cry out for help, as the ice finally reaches my head, my face, and traps me in it. No one's making any moves to help me, everyone's just standing as still as I am, and their faces are blurry...It feels like I'm in a room full of complete strangers." As she talked, her eyes moved over Mick's face, memorizing every square inch of it that she could. "And then Snart...he walks over to me, slowly..." She tightened her grip on his hands, but if it hurt him, he showed no signs of complaining. Amaya tried to work up the courage to keep talking, vision blurring slightly.

"I am sorry about your friend, Mick." The deeper voice of Mick finished it for her. "I know you loved her, to pieces."

A soft sob escaped her. "Oh, _Gods_." She whispered. The fact that he'd known what came next in her nightmare...meant that it wasn't just a nightmare at all. It had actually happened, and he'd been there to watch it.

"Do you remember what you said to me just before that happened?" Mick asked, lightly squeezing her hands to bring her back to the present again.

At first she didn't, but she could feel words in the back of her mind. She swallowed hard as she met his eyes. "Mick, I don't care what anyone else thinks...I still believe in you..." The tears started falling in earnest now.

She felt Mick gently pull her into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, gently shushing her. "You believed in me, saw the best in me, even though it was my fault you were in that position in the first place." She felt him murmur into her hair. "At that point, you were the only one on the team who still did." His large hand rubbing up and down her back soothed her immensely. "I couldn't protect you from him, but I will protect you from anyone else who tries to hurt you. That's a promise."

"Thank you." She mumbled into his shoulder.

"You're welcome." He responded, and then for a few heartbeats, there was only the sound of their breathing, the soft whirring of the ship's various mechanisms. She pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. "Hold on." She wrapped her arms around his neck and before she could ask what was happening, he'd scooped her up and settled her in his lap.

Amaya blinked in surprise, but tucked her head against his chest once more. "What about you?" She asked quietly.

"Don't worry about me right now." Mick's tone was warm and calm. "Just relax, if you can."

She playfully rolled her eyes, but didn't move from his lap, continuing to listen to the beat of his heart. And before she realized what was going on, she was asleep.

\----

Mick could tell the second she fell asleep because her weight became heavier on him. But she was so light, he wasn't bothered by this. Instead, he stayed where he was and kept rubbing her back. He'd made a promise to protect her, and he'd be damned if he didn't keep it.

He wouldn't lose her again, especially not because of his reckless actions.

This was how he stayed for the rest of the night, not daring to move for any reason. Not even to scratch his nose. He was lightly drowsing in the chair when the sound of footsteps caused his eyes to snap open.

\----

Raymond Palmer prided himself on being an early riser. He was usually the first one up out of anyone on the team.

Usually.

Not today though, as the minute he set foot in the entryway to the kitchen, he was greeted by a strange sight.

Amaya, curled up and sleeping in one of the chairs, which wasn't exactly strange by itself.

It was the fact that she was cuddled against Mick Rory's chest, that he was letting her do so without so much as an irritated frown, that was the strange part.

Though Mick's mouth didn't move, the glare he had fixed on him made it pretty clear what he was thinking: _Haircut, if you wake her up, you're dead meat._

So, instead of asking questions to get more information, like he usually would, he lifted his hands and backed slowly away from the kitchen, making a mental note to tell the others not to go to the kitchen for a while.

Maybe he still had food stashed somewhere in his room.

\----

As soon as Palmer was gone from the room, a satisfied smirk crossed Mick's face. Which softened a little as he looked down at Amaya and found her still sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by Palmer's appearance in the entryway.

Confident that no one would bother them for the time being, he let his eyes close, feeling more content than he had in a long time.


	2. that wasn't there before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation, from Mick's point of view this time.

_Mick stood there in terror, watching Amaya slowly start to freeze as a result of Snart's gun._

_The man he'd once called his partner, possibly his best friend, was now someone he didn't even recognize._

_"I am sorry about your friend, Mick." Snart said, not sounding sorry in the slightest as he approached Amaya's frozen form like a predator creeping up on prey. "I know you loved her, to pieces."_

_"Snart, wait." The voice came out of nowhere, and it took Mick a moment to realize that it was his voice. For one paralyzing moment, he didn't think Snart would listen._

_But he did, turning to look at him and cocking his head a little, like the dog he liked to pretend Mick was. "Yes, Mick?" He drawled, like he had all the time in the world. Which, Mick supposed he technically did, with the spear in his proximity._

_"I'm the one who gave her the spear. I'm the one who told her to use it to save the world." Mick didn't look away from Leonard, even though his heart was pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. "If you're going to punish someone for this, punish me. She's meaningless to you."_

_For a split second, Leonard looked like he was considering it. And then he smirked, in that cruel way that Mick knew so well. "You're right, she is meaningless to me. But not to you." And then he tapped on Amaya's frozen silhouette, causing her to crumble to pieces right in front of him._

 

Mick shot up from his cot, breathing hard. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, the totem around his neck glowing faintly. After everything he'd seen and done, he wouldn't say he scared easily, not by a long shot.

But that?

That genuinely scared him.

Sure, it hadn't been what actually happened in Doomworld, but constantly reliving her death (which he did far more than he'd ever admit to the others) was something he could definitely do without.

This whole 'existing' thing was so much easier when he cared only about his next score, rather than about other people. Especially her.

They'd had a rocky start, considering the first time they'd met, she'd held a knife to his throat. But they had come so far since then, it made his head spin. He stood up from the cot and headed out towards the galley to possibly find something to eat. Opening the fridge, he peered into it and genuinely smiled as he saw the silhouette of Amaya, the Dread Pirate Jiwe, on the side of the beer bottles.

Though he'd never say so out loud, out of all the small changes they had made in their trips throughout time, that one was (probably) his favorite.

If anyone deserved such an honour, it was her. There was not a doubt in his mind of that.

Closing the fridge, he left the galley, walked through the darkened halls of the Waverider, past the various sleeping quarters of the rest of his teammates, and stopped short in front of the only door that was open a crack. Peering in, he could make out Amaya's silhouette-once his eyes adjusted to the dark. She was laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

The sight of her filled him with relief. Every now and again, he liked to check to make sure the contents of his nightmares hadn't become a reality while he slept.

Mick was about to turn and walk away when he heard a whispered voice say his name. "Mick?" Glancing into the room again, he could see her brown eyes looking at him, lit up in concern. She waved him in, and he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. Then he turned back to look at her. Her neck looked strangely bare without the totem, but he made sure not to stare too long at it. "What are you doing up?"

If he were in a better state of mind, his first impulse would have been to lie. but after their conversation the other night, after the nightmare he'd just woken up from, he found that he didn't want to lie to her. "Nightmare." The only light within the room was the faint orange glow from his totem.

Amaya's hand was cool on his arm, but not ice cold. "Do you want to talk about it?" He hadn't answered her when she'd asked him that the other night-probably because his only objective than had been comforting her.

"Only if I'm not keeping you up." He said finally.

Amaya shook her head and, as he watched, her hand went to her neck. Or, rather, the empty space where her totem used to rest, sadness crossing her features. "Don't worry, you're not. I don't think I could sleep right now even if I wanted to." Her tone was quiet. She cleared her throat, shaking her head, and met his gaze again. "Now," There was a distinct British accent to her tone that he recognized. "tell Captain Jiwe all about what's bothering you."

Mick couldn't help smirking. "Aye-aye, Captain." He responded, saluting her playfully. But then he went serious. "I watched you die again."

She went serious, too. "And that's why you were outside of my room." She guessed, not the least bit surprised when he nodded. "Mick, if you're comfortable with it, I'd like for you to give me your hand." Her tone was soft, comforting. He reached out to place his hand in hers, eyes widening as she brought it to her chest and placed it over her heart. His hand moved slightly as she breathed, but other than that, he kept his hand where it was, taking comfort in the strong, steady beat under his palm. "Feel that?"

He nodded, in a bit of a daze, as the totem around his own neck grew warm. "Yeah..." Mick murmured, staring at her in mild awe. Here she was, incredibly vulnerable without her totem, even though he knew full well she could more than handle herself without it, trusting him enough to place his hand directly over her heart. She was remarkable.

"I know, what it's like, to be scared of the thoughts, the dreams, in your own mind." Amaya continued speaking, not taking her eyes off him. "But I'm here. I'm real. Most importantly, though, I'm alive. And, totem or no totem, I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, okay?"

Mick nodded. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Foxy." The term of endearment slipped out before he could stop it, and he froze, waiting to see how she'd react.

But instead of being offended or annoyed, she smiled. "You do that, Mick." as he watched, she looked at him and bit her lip, looking contemplative. "You know, my bed is pretty big. Would being in here with me help keep your nightmare away?"

A surprised sound that was closer to a laugh than he cared to, or would ever admit, escaped him. "You trust me enough to let me sleep next to you?" Mick asked.

Amaya nodded with no hesitation. "I absolutely do." With those words, he watched her move back up to lie against the pillows, making room for him in the bed. Swallowing, more nervous than he could ever remember feeling before now, he shifted to lie in the space she made for him. For a while, neither of them spoke, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep.

But then she did, turning over on her side so she was facing him. He saw her luminous brown eyes in the still relatively dark room. "Did you mean what you said? When we were going to be hung in 1717?" Her tone was soft.

"Of course I did. Everything I said then was true, and still is." He responded. "You don't need your totem to be a genuine threat to anyone who gets on your bad side."

As he watched, her lips stretched into a smile, lighting her eyes up in a way that was nothing short of beautiful. "Thank you, for saying those things. I think they were just what I needed to hear."

"You're welcome." He responded, speaking more quietly than he could ever remember before now. Before  _her_. "You know..." He mumbled. "you've helped me a lot, too."

Mick watched her brows furrow. "I have?" She repeated, and he nodded. "Well, I'm glad I could. I meant what I said. You're not a bad guy, Mick." She slid closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Is this okay?" She murmured.

He nodded, blinking in shock. "Yeah, it's fine. It's your bed." Mick's hand came up to rest on her back.

"Thank you, Mick. For always being such an unbiased listener." He heard her say softly.

Despite how little he usually spoke, he didn't hesitate this time. "Thank  _you_ , for never giving up on me despite the things I've done."

"Never." She murmured, and Mick smiled as he felt her lips on his cheek again.

"If I asked to kiss you right now, would you let me?" The words slipped out before he had the chance to stop them. But he didn't want to stop them.

She didn't answer, and for a moment he was worried he'd scared her off, ruined whatever this was. "Yes, I would let you." He exhaled a breath when she finally did speak, and he let her soft hand turn his head so they were looking at each other.

Encouraged by this, he leaned in and lightly pressed his lips to hers, a gesture that she instantly reciprocated.

If hugging her, holding her, had felt good, kissing her felt like  _heaven_.

They kissed until his lungs protested for air, at which point he broke the kiss, grinning breathlessly. "Beautiful, smart, badass and a great kisser. What more could I ask for?" He asked.

Amaya's laughter was music to his ears as she rested her forehead against his. "You really are just as big softie at heart, aren't you?" She murmured, not taking her eyes off him.

"Only when it comes to you." He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her close.

Whatever happened tomorrow, they'd face it together.

But right now, he was going to live in the moment, because right now, he was happier than he'd ever been.


End file.
